Without You
by Quaxo
Summary: *sighs* My FIRST fic actually. *grins* And it doesn't have Snape-chan in it, surprisingly. This is also posted on the UHPFC, but I'm trying to keep all the fics in one place. This is also being posted to let you know I haven't died or anything...


Note: This takes place near the end of HP and the Chamber of Secrets, just so nobody gets confuzzled. I also wrote this when I was extremely depressed, warning, I don't write happy stuff when I'm depressed.   
  
Also, this happens to be the FIRST solely HP fic I EVER wrote, and coming as of August Twenty-Third, it will be ONE YEAR OLD. I'm a yearbie!  
  
Without You,  
by Quaxo  
  
Minerva McGonagall raced to the kitchens and told them to cook up a feast immediately, for Harry Potter had slain the beast hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. There were many whoops of joy, and they joyfully set about their buisness. She raced down the halls, desperately looking for another Professor. She bumped into Professor Flitwick, who squealed and fell backwards.   
"Oh, I'm sorry Niabus, here." She said offering her hand to assist, he smiled and said it was okay, stood and dusted himself off.   
  
"Where are you off to Minerva in such a hurry?" He asked politely.   
  
"Dumbledore's ordered a feast, as of this moment and every student and Professor is to attend." She said promptly, adjusting her glasses nervously.   
  
"A feast!?!" Flitwick squeaked.   
  
"Yes, Harry Potter's found the Chamber of Secrets, saved Ginny Weasley, and destroyed the monster within." Minerva said quickly.   
  
"Oh that's wonderful!!" Flitwick squealed.   
  
"Yes..." Minerva mumbled slightly, her mind beginning to drift. She shook her head and returned to the present. "I've got a favour to ask Niabus, would you go tell the other houses of the feast? I've got to go do something, very very important." Flitwick nodded and as soon as he was gone down the corridor and his joyful shouts were merely more than an echo, Minerva bolted for her apartments, near the Gryffindor towers. Finally she arrived at the enterance. It was a plain brick wall, with a large tapestry of birds of every imaginable color in flight, actually moving within the tapestry. She smiled at it for a moment, enjoying it's splendor, before ducking behind it and into the the lighted passageway within. Nobody would guess that the spectaluarly coloured tapestry would be the enterance to her domicle, something she liked, for the other Professors wouldn't come to bother her, like Lockhart to come a boasting at her doorstep. She hated his guts, she was for sure now. Of course everyone had thought he was the right choice when he started, after all there were all those books, but his head seemed full of fluff to her from the git-go. And now, when she saw him after his little adventure with two of her most reckless students, well not exactly reckless, but certainly more free-spirited students, it seemed that the fluff was starting to run out of his ears.   
  
She entered her room, which was a variety of bright colors. Large sky blue drapes hung around the walls, covering the dark stonework. A large bright red velvet chair, beaten and abused from use sat in a corner, a brass lamp with thousands of glittering beads of all shades in the form of a lampshade. There was a long honey-coloured oak coffee table with books of all shapes, colours and sizes scattered across the top of it in the most disorderly fashion. This was the Minerva McGonagall no one but her closest friends knew. Not even Dumbledore had seen her room here. She ran into her bedroom, which was made up of wild animal prints and bright colors of magenta and turquiose. She pulled a dark blue robe as beaten as the chair, the gold trim fading to black as the shene wore off. She wondered why she didn't throw it out or at least attempt to fix it, but she knew why. It was because *he* had given it to her. She threw her glasses recklessly on the bed, and undid her bun, her black locks of curls coming down in waves to her hips, and re-entered the living room, heading towards a closet hidden behind a jade curtain. She carefully pulled it back, aprehensive if she should look at the contents inside again, it had been awhile since she last had and it left her a wreck for weeks. Summing up her courage she swung the door open and pulled out the only thing in there, a large travelling trunk.   
  
It was black, although the paint was chipping to reveal the wood beneath and the brass had dulled incredibly. Even the stenciled gold letters, which once spelled her name, were barely there anymore, faded out by time. Biting her lips she carefully opened the trunk, and randomly pulled out an item, not even looking at it as she did.   
  
She pulled out a worn jade stone, in the shape of a four point star. He'd given it to her while they were walking on the beach alone at sunset. She set it aside and pulled out another item.   
  
A letter. A letter he'd given her after she'd been informed by her parents that they were splitting up. He'd helped her during that time, offering words of comfort. They'd openly blamed her for the split up. Her father was proud to have a witch in the family, mother was not. Biting her lip to hold back tears she placed it by the jade stone and plucked out another item.   
  
A scarf, a brilliant green. It had been his winter scarf, she'd knitted it herself, by hand. He called it his travelling scarf, and had even went to the trouble of making her an identical one, by hand, although it wasn't as good, and unfortunately was swept away in the wind a long time ago. Gulping she folded it gently and put it beside her and chose another item.   
  
A faded blue ring box. He'd given it to her, it was her engagement ring. Feeling on the verge of hysteria she opened it. The sparkling crystal still glittered brightly in the candlelight and the gold still glimmered, as it had the day he'd given it to her, and the day she said yes. She felt tears slip down her cheeks at this. They had been so close, and then it had happened. She sank into a convient pile of brightly coloured silk pillows, letting memory prevail.   
  
After they had graduated from Hogwarts, they leaped on their brooms, and started to travel, neither wanting to return back to their Muggle homes. He was a half-blood and she was Muggle-blood, but both had exceeding talents in Magic. He'd been a specialist in Dark Arts Defense, and a wonder at the art of dueling. She, however was far more Transfigurations oriented, since she enjoyed forming things.   
  
So they traveled, trading their craft amongst tribes and small villages in need of assistance, of course they didn't know they were magical, for food and shelter and a little money, which they traded at the nearest Gringotts. He also was studying, learning more and more about his art.   
  
They were over Paris when he preposed to her, floating non-chalently as he sat on the side of his broom and charmingly asked for her hand as he presented her the ring. She'd almost fallen off, she remembered, of her own broom in shock. Soon the date was set, the 31st of July, to be held in whatever city they might be in.   
  
In the last week of July they found themselves in Bangkok, Siam. They were both so excited that as soon as their feet had hit the ground they found the nearest missionary priest who spoke English and begged him to marry them. He agreed and they set off, many things still left to do. She was in charge of getting their clothing together, she'd decided to conjure up a simple black tuxedo for him, and a creamy white velvet dress for her, which was straight and had a slit up to her hip, scandelous in those days. He still had some things to do, and so she left him to them. The bride and groom weren't supposed to see each other any way, if you followed custom. He was gone almost three days, when she began to worry. Not even an owl or note from him.   
  
Then that horrible night came. It was the eve of their wedding, and he still hadn't shown up. She began to prowl the streets, keeping her wand hidden in her purse in case of an emergency. She searched through the rotten smelling opium dens, the filthy clubs, and finally found herself lost in a dark mysterious alley. Slowly she treked through it, tightly clutching her wand from the inside of her purse. There was a dim light at the end, and she headed towards it, hoping to ask directions. Carefully she knocked and pushed the door open slightly and gasped.   
  
All around the room hung various things that could only be related to Dark Arts, and most certainly not defense. The wizened and grimacing man was talking to a taller, thinner man, paler than most of the natives here, but his hair as dark as any of the others, and perhaps even darker. They both looked up and she screeched. It was him, her beloved, her soul mate talking to a Dark Arts wizard. He hadn't been researching on defense, that much was clear now, he was studying up on the Dark Art itself. He'd cried out her name and grabbed her in his embrace, and she began to beat her fists upon his chest fiercely.   
  
She begged him to tell her why he had and was doing such a terrible thing, didn't he remember the horrible things concerning Dark Magic that had occurred at their stay at Hogwarts? Or the heir of Slytherin had resided in his own house? Then the most sickening, revolting grin appeared on his face, and he told her blatently that *they* had not caught the heir of Slytherin, and that Ruebus Hagrid was too slow to be the heir. She cried out in agony and kicked him away from her forcefully and began to back out of the horrible place. But he clutched her arm tightly, and pointed his wand directly at her, prepared to put a deadly curse on her. She was no longer able to speak and was frozen with horror. Then something changed in his eyes. He threw her out the door and told her never to come back, before slamming the doors shut and leaving her out in the night.   
  
Minerva picked herself off the floor and grabbed the last item, besides the clothes that she had planned them to wear from the trunk. It was a picture of him and her, although they no longer moved, perhaps because they were rarely ever seen anymore and they found it pointless to make the effort, smiling and grinning as they wore their new Head Boy and Girl pins above their Prefect ones. Gently she lay it up on the mantle, dusting it off gently with the sleeve of her robe, and collected the other items and placed them back in the box. And the thought struck her, like it had a million times before, were the two of them were truly meant to be?   
  
She was a Gryffindor, and he a Slytherin, which made for a definately odd pairing indeed, considering Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin absolutely hated each other, and it was in fact Godric that had forced Salazar to leave. In fact many had said that when she came back to England her trunk in tow, and her eyes downcast. She had told him that he was dead, no longer one of the living. Many shunned her, ranting on about how it was written in the fates that no member of Gryffindor and Slytherin could ever be paired in harmony. Only Dumbledore had taken pity on her, at her young age of 21, which was suprising since he showed a considerable amount of distrust towards her fiancee. He'd gotten her a job as his apprentice as the Transfigurations teacher, and out of loyalty and gratefullness she stayed.   
  
Sighing, Minerva headed out into the hall, remaining dressed in the ancient robe, and heading down the feast. It was practically commanded that she be there, since Harry and Ron were her students.   
  
A faint wind blew through Minerva's living room from an open window,brushing a bit of grime off the antique frame to reveal a small brass plate:   
  
Tom M. Riddle and Minerva McGonagall, Head Boy and Girl 1959.   
  
The End  



End file.
